Dearest Antoinette
by MrsChristineDestler
Summary: In which Christine writes a letter to Madame Giry regarding Meg's suicide. (Alternate universe. ErikxChristine. T rating for mentions of Meg's prostitution.)


**this plot bunny simply wouldn't leave my head, so you've been given a one shot that may or may not turn into a multichapter.**

**alternate universe.**

**six months after erik and christine left the opera house together.**

**enjoy.**

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Dearest Antoinette,

I cannot hide my utter astonishment at receiving your most recent letter! Truly, you had Erik fearing for my health and the health of our unborn child. Meg has killed herself. Writing that statement doesn't even make it seem real. Nothing can. I simply cannot fathom that my best friend all through adolescence has committed such a deed. Can one really have changed so much in the short period of time I have been gone? Though nearly six months have passed, it seems just yesterday Erik and I left Paris.

I will apologize now for the delay in my response to your correspondence. For a long while, I was too distraught to even form a coherent thought. I cannot imagine how you feel at the moment... Even having never held the child in my womb, I already feel such adoration and love towards he or she that the thought of losing him or her seems too great to comprehend. In what I know will be a futile attempt to lift your broken soul even the slightest, I shall devote the rest of this letter to the most memorable events of my friendship with Meg and the monumental events in her life that you may have missed.

My first experience with the infamous Meg Giry took place just after I arrived at the opera house. My father's passing was still fresh in my heart and mind, and all I wanted was to return to Sweden. As I lie on my bed in the dorm room I would be sharing with a Meg who I had yet to meet, a flash of white passed the doorway before a very blonde girl poked her head into the room. Ever the frank little thing, she simply said "You know, crying will get you nowhere. Your father isn't coming back, trust me, I'd know better than anyone. If I were you, I'd suck it up, realize you aren't some princess in a fairytale, and follow me." Unsure of what else to do, and not wanting to miss the first opportunity I had to befriend someone who-if nothing else- would make my time here a little more bearable, I followed her.

Following Meg that day was one of the best decisions I have ever made, second only to choosing to leave Raoul for Erik. For the remainder of the afternoon, she raced though the opera house, showing me all of the secret hiding places and favorite hangouts of my fellow dancers. I was nothing short of delighted when at the end of my tour, the vivacious young thing revealed that she was Meg Giry, the girl with whom I would be rooming.

From then on, Meg was my constant companion and confidant, and I, hers. We gossiped incessantly over mugs full of hot cocoa and squealed over the new male chorus members whom by our standards were considered to be extremely dashing. I told her of my time traveling with Father, my outings with Raoul, and even managed to recall some of the strange and dark stories of the north. In turn, she was ready to fill my head with rumors of the ever mysterious 'opera ghost,' and as we aged never failed to recount her many encounters with clients who payed her great sums of money for her services.

As we both know, Meg had quite the business from the time she entered her fifteenth year, and as I contemplate her premature death, I cannot help but believe it had something to do with said business. Nonetheless, I prided myself in knowing just how to extricate her from a particularly difficult situation involving her clients, and though I remained untouched myself, I learnt a great deal about the more intimate matters of life from our Meg. Erik, I know, has greatly benefitted from such teachings, though he is loathe to admit it.

Normally, Meg had a relatively well functioning level of common sense, though I can clearly recall a small number of times when it failed her. For example, the time she thought it would be smart to seduce La Carlotta's suitor, Piangi; the large man nearly crushed her small frame, and if that wasn't bad enough, the diva gave her hell for the longest time! Then there was the time Meg insisted upon dragging me to the local pub for a few drinks; she started with one of her clients right on top of the bar after only three shots. By her fifth, she had engaged in a threesome, and by her eighth, I had to physically drag her out of the place for fear that she would be intimate with every male within the hour! Another time, she was called to a client's home, and when she had yet to return by nightfall the next day, I went to there myself, and nearly broke my leg climbing into the window to rescue her. And who can forget the time she thought she was pregnant? Why, she drank more that week than I had ever seen her consume in her short sixteen years. Turns out, she had simply miscalculated the date of her last cycle by a week!

Now that I think about it, Meg had far too many adventures for her own good. Some of which I'm sure she would prefer remain unknown to her mother. I shall tell you what, Antoinette, in two months time, why don't you come and stay with Erik and I for a while. It couldn't hurt to have an extra set of hands around when the baby arrives, and maybe seeing a new life enter into the world would help ease your aching heart even the slightest. Besides, you've always been like a mother to me, and you so often said that I was like a daughter to you, so perhaps you can be the grandmother figure in my child's life, and he or she can be the grandchild Meg never gave to you. Of course, as I write this, Erik groans, but I'm sure he secretly misses you as much as I.

I must be off now. Make haste in your response, and perhaps we shall be seeing you soon.

-Christine Destler


End file.
